


This Tainted Love

by EnRaa



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: AU, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingering, M/M, Oral Sex, Some Fluff, Sticky Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1618853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnRaa/pseuds/EnRaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarantulas rewards his Fuzor for doing such a good job on his assignments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Tainted Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy!

“Tower’s built an’ operational, Bossbot! All's that’s left is for you t’get yer gear up n’ runnin’.” Quickstrike announced as he waltzed into his superior’s lab.

Tarantulas turned away from his monitor to give the Fuzor a nod of appreciation. “Good work, Fuzor! We’ll be ahead of schedule at this rate.” He praised, quirking one of his claws to beckon the hybrid over to his workstation.

Quickstrike trotted over to the console and looked expectantly up at the spider. “What can Ah do ya for, Big T?” The Fuzor asked eagerly, and despite his mask covering his mouth, Tarantulas could hear the smile in his voice. The bot eagerly shifted his weight from pede to pede.

The spider raised his claws up to gently cup the Fuzor’s face, and the crossbreed eagerly pressed into the touch. “I’ve been thinking, Fuzor… You have been a very good mech lately, haven’t you?” He asked playfully, tracing the mask’s edges with his thumb.

The hybrid looked up at him with nothing but adoration and nodded slowly, still pressing into Tarantulas’ hand and seeking as much attention as the spider would give him.

Perfect. This was just how Tarantulas liked it. His Fuzor was always so obedient...

Flaring his mandibles a bit, the tarantula gently guided the Fuzor a little closer until they were chest-to-chest. “And I suppose since you’re such a good bot that you want a little reward for all your hard work?”

As soon as Quickstrike registered the words he was shaking his helm. “No, no, that’s not necessary Bossbot, Ah like th’work! No need fer'a reward or nothin’.” He declined quickly.

Cocking his helm, Tarantulas leaned down so his mandibles gently flared and drug along the Fuzor’s audials. “Oh, but I think you’ll change your mind when I show you what you’ve earned, Quickstrike…” The spider rumbled into the hybrid’s audials, making the smaller bot shiver. He ran his claws down Quickstrike’s chest, gently scratching the armor and choking a whimper out of the Fuzor.

“Nngh…Boss, what’re ya doin’ t’me…?” Quickstrike asked weakly, trying desperately not to arch into that sinful touch.

Tarantulas chuckled lowly and eased a black thigh in between the Fuzor’s own, careful of the spines along his calves. The last thing he wanted was to stab the smaller mech. “Just giving you what you’ve been wanting since we united…” He explained, applying light pressure to the hybrid’s panel.

Arching into the touch, Quickstrike moaned and let his helm rest against the spider’s shoulder joint as the spider wreaked havoc on his frame. “Mm…please, Boss…”

The scientist maneuvered his assistant back onto the console, gently grinding their panels together once the hybrid was laying back comfortably. He was never happier for the lock command on his workstation then that moment.

Quickstrike was whimpering with every delicious brush of their panels, but he looked far from pleasured. In fact, he looked downright miserable. His optics were shut tight and he was straining not to touch the spider.

Cocking an optic ridge, Tarantulas ceased all movement and stared down at the Fuzor. “What seems to be troubling you, Fuzor?” He asked, a little curious if he’d been reading the hybrid’s recent behavior wrong. It would make no sense though; The bot was clearly enamored with him, so why would a simple interface rear such a distasteful reaction?

The red optics shot open and Quickstrike looked terrified, staring into the bright yellow visor like he was staring at death. “Ah…Ah’m sorry, Boss…Ah just…” He stammered, breaking the stare and tensing up. Hard.

Bringing his hand up to scratch lightly at the Fuzor’s chin, an act he knew would calm the smaller bot, Tarantulas shifted back to give Quickstrike a little more room to relax. Arching his helm into the scratching, the Fuzor purred in satisfaction. “Are you upset by the idea of interfacing with me?” He asked, questioning the possibility of the Fuzor being repulsed by the act itself or just doing it with someone in a higher position than he.

“No! No, no, o’course not! Ah just… Ah don’t think this’s sucha good idea s’all…” Quickstrike murmured, lowering his optics and looking quite crestfallen.

How…strange…but intriguing. “Why is that now?”

Sighing, Quickstrike finally lifted his optics to meet Tarantulas’ visor. “Ah don’t want this ta end after jus’ one interface…” The reply was whispered, like the mech was ashamed to admit it. “An Ah don’t want this ta be jus’ foolin’ around or nothin’… I ain’t bein’ no bot’s frag toy!” He declared little more solidly than his confession. “I ain’t like that she-spider.”

Tarantulas couldn’t help but chuckle at the comment. “So, it’s a relationship you want, is it?” He asked, finding the little confessions to be rather adorable. So very vulnerable of the big, tough Fuzor…

It gave the spider a rush of pride to know only _he_ could do this to the Fuzor.

Quickstrike gave a small nod and shrank back into the console. “Ah understand if that’s not somethin’ yer interested in.” He said softly, optics lowering once more. “Ah mean yer pretty busy an’ all... Ah wouldn' wanna distract ya or nothin'-”

The spider pressed the claw he’d been using to scratch the Fuzor’s chin with to the center of his mask to hush him. “Shh, it’s alright, my little Fuzor…” He calmed the other, gently brushing his finger in small circles around the diameter of the mask. 

Optics brightening, Quickstrike looked up hopefully at the spider. “Y- _Yer_ Fuzor?” He asked slowly.

“ _My_ Fuzor…” Tarantulas confirmed, leaning down to press the crests of their helms together as he let his hand lower down to play with the Fuzor’s chest armor again. “I’m rather moved with your honesty, Quickstrike. You never cease to impress me.”

The Fuzor let out a small mewl and pressed his chest into Tarantulas’ hand.

“Now, seeing as you’re so… _eager_ to pursue an intimate relationship with me, I think perhaps we should begin to lay down and discuss some boundaries, alright?” When the hybrid nodded vehemently, Tarantulas dipped his hand down to run along the raised contours of the Fuzor’s abdomen, stroking and clawing lightly at the metal armor. “First thing is first; Are you still comfortable working as my assistant while we are in a relationship?” He asked, gently tracing a line from Quickstrike’s midriff to his hip joint.

Quickstrike wiggled a little. “Ah wouldn’ have it any other way, Big T… Ah love workin' with ya.” He said honestly.

Tarantulas brought his free hand up to gently scratch under the Cobra-head’s chin, earning a pleased purr from Quickstrike. “Neither would I. You are the best assistant I’ve had in a long time. Now, on that note, will you be able to restrain yourself during work?” He had a teasing tone to his voice as he gently palmed at the hybrid’ heated panel. "We wouldn't want any _distractions_ now, would we?"

“Nn-Ah...!” The Fuzor moaned, arching into the touch. “Ah…Ah’ve been restrainin’ m’self this long, ain’t Ah?”

The scientist chuckled and pressed a little harder. “Ah, but self-service and a creative fantasy can go a long way when you don’t know what interfacing with the partner you want feels like…” He gently chided.

Whimpering, Quickstrike spread his legs a little wider for the spider. “Mm…Ah haven’…oh!...self-serviced since Ah landed…” He informed his soon-to-be lover.

The tarantula stopped all ministrations to stare down at the mech in thinly-veiled shock. The lack of stimulation wrung a distraught cry from the Fuzor and Tarantulas shook himself from his stupor. “Not at all?” He asked, legitimately stunned at the confession.

The smaller mech shook his head, clearly a little embarrassed. “These dang servo’s…They ain’t good fer much.” He admitted sheepishly.

Taking pity on the mech, Tarantulas resumed stroking over the panel, but with renewed vigor. “So when the she-spider would get you revved up…” He trailed off, knowing that the hybrid would catch his thought process.

“She wasn’…mm…wasn’ much more than’a pretty face.” Quickstrike said simply, stretching out as Tarantulas played with his panel. The sound of both his spike and valve covers retracting were loud in the large lab and echoed off of the walls, much to the Fuzor’s embarrassment. “She…She didn’ do much fer me. Not like you...”

Tarantulas gently traced the grey spike with a single claw as soon as it pressurized, mindful not to cut it, and watched with interest as little dribbles of pre-fluid puddled at the slit only to slide down the tip and onto his waiting claw. “I must’ve been quite a bother, given how your frame is reacting to me…” He muttered as he raised the claw to his mandibles and drank in the fluid with an interesting sigh of appreciation.

Quickstrike felt his frame heat up at the action, his spike twitching as he watched the spider clean his finger of the fluid. “Well…Yer a heck of a’lot more attractive than the she-spider…” He explained, transfixed on the scene before him. “Lot more interestin' too... But Ah…Ah couldn’t do much ‘bout it, no.”

 The scientist cocked his head, a little taken aback by the compliment. He was usually referred to as creepy, so to get such a compliment was both endearing and fairly interesting. Taking the spike in hand, Tarantulas slowly stroked up and down the length, stopping every now and then to circle his thumb around the tip. “I apologize.” He let out a small chuckle, watching the Fuzor writhe under his hands.

“Nngh…There ain’t…nothin’…” A sigh of pleasure erupted from the hybrid’s vocalizer. “-ya’ll coulda done ‘bout it…” He mewled, wishing there was some way he could reciprocate the attention he was being given. “As much as Ah’m enjoyin’ this, Big T… Ah wanna try somethin’…”

Before Tarantulas could properly reply, the spider was flipped around so his back was pressed against the console and the Fuzor was kneeling, using his clamp-arm to balance against the console and pressed the cobra-head against one of the spider’s thighs, mindful of the mouth. He nuzzled adoringly at the panel, staring up at Tarantulas with nothing but need and desire. “Open up fer me, Boss…” He purred, retracting the panel from the front of his mask.

 Tarantulas retracted his spike panel obediently and watched as the Fuzor waited eagerly for his spike to pressurize. Once it was at full length, Quickstrike eagerly took the black and purple appendage into his intake. The spider gave a light gasp, the near too-hot heat, almost too tight fit through the mask, and the devilish wet glossa doing wicked things to his self-control. Bringing a hand down to encouragingly rub and scratch at the hybrid’s helm, he found himself making quite a bit more noise than he’d anticipated.

“Mm…yes… That’s it, Fuzor…” The scientist groaned and arched gently into Quickstrike’s mouth, feeling the tight suction that was borderline painful and just a tad over-stimulating.

He loved it. It made up for the fact that his spike was a tad bigger than the intake was, and the strain didn’t allow for any thrusting.

The hybrid was making all sorts of wet and needy sounds around his spike, and Tarantulas was having quite a hard time holding back his own moans of bliss as that glossa flicked over ridges and bumps along the length of it, eagerly pressing into each groove and stroking each sensor with _just_ the right amount of pressure to drive the spider wild.

“Nngh… If you keep that up, Fuzor, this will be over far earlier than either of us would care for…” Tarantulas groaned, gently guiding the smaller mech's helm off of his spike.

Quickstrike pulled off of the thick cord with an audible ‘pop’, pre-fluid dripping from his intake and optics dimmed in obvious pleasure. He sealed the panel over his mouth once more and fidgeted at Tarantulas’ pedes, desperately trying to ignore his painfully hard spike and dripping valve.

Tarantulas had to stifle a little chuckle as he took in the sight of the debauched mech, noting the puddle of lubricant that had formed where Quickstrike had been kneeling. The Fuzor’s thighs were soaked, and his frame was running dangerously hot from how worked up he was.

Hm, all that from just sucking his spike…

The spider hauled Quickstrike to his pedes and eagerly propped him up onto the console, spreading his legs wide. The hybrid moaned, squirming at the lack of stimulation.

“Please…please Boss…Ah can’t take no more a’this…!” The Fuzor moaned, writhing in frustration as one of the tarantula’s claws swept over the rim of his valve, slowly from bottom to top, circling the anterior node and back down. He repeated the motion a few times, causing the valve clench down on nothing.

Using two claws to hold the swollen folds open, Tarantulas watched with interest as lubricant trickled down the array to puddle around the mech’s aft on the console. Quickstrike let out a whine of embarrassment and squirmed at the feeling.

“Hm, it seems you’re getting quite wet for me, aren’t you Fuzor?” The scientist teased, reveling in the moan of relief when he finally pressed a clawed finger into Quickstrike’s drenched valve. It clenched down tightly on the digit, giving the spider all sorts of naughty ideas of what it could do to his spike. Soon enough...

“Nngh-hah! Always…Always fer you, Big T…!” Quickstrike mewled, hands clawing and biting at anything he could get a grip on. Tarantulas pumped the finger in and out of the Fuzor a few times before adding a second, then hybrid went wild. Arching and thrusting down on the moving digits in his valve, the smaller mech growled and groaned as he was teased. “T-Tarantulas…Please…”

Deciding the Fuzor was as ready as he would get, Tarantulas removed his fingers and brought them to his mouth to clean them of the delicious lubricant.

However, he failed to notice that Quickstrike was completely through with his stalling, and was quite surprised to be toppled backwards onto the floor. The Fuzor eagerly straddled his hips, using the awkward cobra-head and clamp to keep balance on the console’s edges, and lined the spider’s spike up with his quivering valve. He gently ran the purple tip along his puffy lips and sensitized anterior node, giving a soft gasp of pure bliss, before re-aligning and finally plunging down, all the way to the hilt, on the thick spike.

The bumps and ridges were like heaven as they scraped against his innermost sensors and Quickstrike was keening with relief as he clenched around Tarantulas, relishing the sharp burn of penetration the spike caused from their hasty preparation.

The spider cupped the grey hip joints in his hands and slowly began to lift the trembling Fuzor off of his spike, dragging against all of the hybrid’s valve sensors in the most amazing way that had the smaller bot sobbing for more.

Never one to disappoint, Tarantulas picked up a fast and hard rhythm, knowing if he teased the bot for too much longer he’d probably fry some of his circuitry. The pace suited Quickstrike just fine though, and he was eagerly meeting the spider thrust for thrust.

“Mm, such a little…pleasure bot for me, aren’t you Quickstrike?” The spider grunted. “So greedy, taking my spike like some vile, depraved harlot…” He changed the angle a couple of times until he heard the hybrid keen, knowing he’d found the Fuzor’s ceiling node. “Like that..?” He purred, hitting it repeatedly just to see the smaller mech writhe and moan in ecstasy.

Quickstrike nodded eagerly, bouncing hard on the spike buried in his valve. He lost it completely when Tarantulas reached a finger down to flick and circle the anterior node a few times, tensing up hard and _screaming_ his lover’s name as he overloaded. Transfluid painted both mechs' abdomens and Quickstrike threw his helm back as he rode wave after wave of intense pleasure, the spider continuing to drive fervently towards his own release.

The Fuzor’s valve clenched almost unbearably tight around Tarantulas’ spike and eventually drug the unsuspecting scientist into his own circuit-blowing overload. He gasped Quickstrike’s name and pumped his transfluid deep into the hybrid’s already lubricant-flooded valve, the excess fluids spilling out onto the spider’s thighs.

Both bots collapsed, Tarantulas no longer able to lean forward and Quickstrike too weak for his arms to support him. The mechs landed in an ungracious heap, the hybrid nuzzling into the spider’s chest as they recovered from their little romp.

“So tell me…” Tarantulas murmured, bringing a hand up to gently massage the back of the Fuzor’s helm. “How was your first overload since landing on the planet…?”

The smaller mech hummed in satisfaction and turned his red optics to meet the yellow visor staring down at him expectantly. “Was th’best Ah’ve ever had, Boss…” He purred.

The spider chuckled lightly. “Good. Later on, once we’ve recovered, we’ll go over the _full_ list of boundaries that will accompany our coupling… We’ll try to get through that one uninterrupted.” He assured his lover.

Stretching languidly, Quickstrike let his helm rest over Tarantulas’ spark chamber and relaxed. “Mm, Sounds like a dandy plan, Boss…” The hybrid muttered sleepily.

“Until then,” Tarantulas shifted around to get a little more comfortable, feeling his spike depressurize and slip from the valve. “-rest up…”

Both mechs closed up their panels, and the Fuzor happily snuggled in, getting comfortable atop his superior. “Love you, Boss…” He happily sighed, slipping into recharge.

Tarantulas stared down at the slumbering bot for a long moment before letting out a small chuckle. “I know, _Partner_.”

-end-


End file.
